The War of Shades

Chapter 41 Aberdeen Rescue Mission

"Ready, Harry?"

Harry had met Cameron in the Entry Hall after Harry's last class before Christmas break.

"I guess," said Harry, looking back up the stairs.

"I think any student who looks so longingly toward the library is due for a break," said Cameron. "No luck figuring out what sort of curse might do it?"

"No. I've only had a few days to really start searching," said Harry sadly, "and I really feel I should be back in the library working on it. I think it may have something to do with the sunglasses, but I can't find a curse that would cause this. I've tested several pairs for magical properties and I find nothing. I wish I had some help. I only know of a few people who aren't affected and I seem to be the only one taking all the fighting seriously."

"That's not really so, Harry," said Cameron gently. "The faculty understand your concern, although I'm not sure as they've seen it as severely as you, but they are all very busy, as is Dumbledore. Then there's Mr. Filch - and we can't tell if he's affected because he always acts cantankerous - and me. Let me assure you that you do not want MY help researching anything to do with spells and curses - potions, creatures and plants, maybe, but not spells and curses."

"I guess you're right Cameron," admitted Harry. "It's just that if we don't find a way to put a stop to all this fighting amongst ourselves, we will be easy targets for Voldemort's attack and it will happen by the end of the school year. Can there be much more important than that?"

"Nae, of course not, Harry."

"The way things are looking, with the students unable to get along, Hogwarts would be destroyed in such an attack and all of us killed."

"You don't have to convince me that war is a bad thing. God does not want his children to fight, although my understanding is that fighting in defense of self or others is acceptable. I understand the stakes. But I also believe that God is watching over us and will guide us to what is right, if we just keep faith in him. My understanding also is that the Headmaster believes he already has his best man on the job."

"Well, at any rate, I seem to be the only one who can work on it. I just hope I'm good enough for the job."

"Hasn't Professor Dumbledore always seen to it that you have what you need?"

"I suppose. I just wish I knew where this was heading."

"If you knew, then there wouldn't be anything to work out."

"I give up. You're right, you're right, you're right. So shouldn't I spend the holiday in the library?"

"You need a break. Besides, Professor Dumbledore agrees with me that taking the better part of a fortnight to serve your fellow man in a different way will be useful to you, if only to let your head clear and get organized and to get a new perspective on things."

"Okay, okay. So where are we going and how are we getting there?"

"We'll be taking the Floo Network to meet Arabella at my grandmother's house in Aberdeen. There'd be enough room there even if Grandmum wasn't in a nursing home. Grandmum is a muggle; Grandpa MacBoon was killed in the first war. It's a short walk to the bus stop to get to the Mission."

"I could just apparate us - both to the house and to the Mission."

"Nae," said Cameron. "I've been apparated before - I'll have none of it. It's the Floo Network for me. And no one at the Mission knows about magic and we're to keep it that way."

Harry sighed. "Okay, I'll do it your way."

"Lesson number 1," said Cameron cheerily, "acceptance and humility - sometimes we have to let go and accept others taking the reins."

"Okay then - letting go. Show me the way."

"That's the spirit."

They went to the main fireplace. Cameron took out a leather pouch with Floo Powder and together they were off to Aberdeen. Mrs. Figg was already there waiting for them and they immediately smelled a potion brewing. Cameron and Harry walked into the kitchen where Mrs. Figg was carefully but quickly preparing ingredients.

"Mandrakes, Arabella?" asked Cameron. "What kind of a potion is this? I thought we weren't going to be doing any magic-related work over Christmas."

"Ahh, Cameron, Harry, there you are," she said, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. "It's depetrification potion. It's a special supply Dumbledore asked for. I'm not sure why, but there are only a few things that can cause petrification, and all of them are horrid. I shudder to think that the enemy has gotten ahold of something as hideous as that."

"Mmm, yes," said Cameron, "but then Dumbledore'll be having his reasons."

"Yes," said Harry, trying to look concerned and mystified, "something like that would be awful."

"Well, the Mission called to see when we would be arriving. I told them I had womanly problems - that always works - and that I would send you two along as soon as you arrived."

"Okay, Arabella. We're off then," said Cameron. "We can bring our things upstairs when we get back; we've got them in the parlor out of the way. Any chance we could be having some of your famous shepherd's pie when we get back."

"Don't I know I've got to make that for you every time we get together, you silly lad? The things are all ready to assemble and sitting in the icebox. I just need to get this on a gentle simmer before I get to that. Some fresh-baked bread as well."

"Lovely," said Cameron.

"Sounds good to me," said Harry. "I thought this was going to be roughing it, but so far things are pretty cozy."

Mrs. Figg cocked her head at him. "Aye, I'll provide some comforts, Harry, but don't kid yourself. There's an ocean of work to be done at the Mission and they rarely have a strong young man such as yourself to do the heavy and dangerous chores that ought to be done, so you'll be earning your bread."

"Heavy and dangerous? Cameron, are you sure we can't use a bit of magic?" asked Harry.

"We'll see. We can't be caught with it, you know, but with some care..." Cameron winked. "Let's be off, then, the sun goes down early this time of year. See you on the evening, Arabella."

"Be careful, you two, neither of you are used to stoop labor."

Harry and Cameron had not even had a chance to take off their heavy coats, so they fastened them and headed to the bus stop. Cameron had already made a point of having the correct coinage, so they were able to catch a bus and arrive at the Mission in short order.

Mrs. Figg had not been kidding about the work available for a young man. The Mission had three primary operations: a residential area with dorms for the clients, little used except in harsh weather, when it was full to overflowing; a dining hall to provide meals; and a counseling center, where clients were given assistance on alcohol and other drug abuse, mental and medical problems, and employment. Most of the work involved was performed by volunteers, generally middle-aged women and retirees of both sexes. Few if any were capable of the heavy lifting and other physical effort required for a thorough cleaning, significant repairs to the buildings, grounds maintenance, and reorganization of supplies. Some of these things had been attempted, but with the Mission rarely having an excess of workers available for the basic operations, many had been left undone in hopes that somehow extra volunteers would arrive and take care of them.

First, it was the mattresses of the dorms. They were not overly shabby, but they were all foul. Many of the clients only checked in to the dorms after they had drunk or drugged themselves into a stupor. The Mission volunteers were used to this. The clients would be helped to a bed and in the morning they would be encouraged to take a shower and exchange their old clothes for clean used clothing. However, due to the condition of the clients when they were placed on the beds, the mattresses were all stained with urine, blood, feces and vomit. A change of bedding removed much of these bodily substances and sponges were used to blot them off in the mornings, but what had soaked in was left to dry.

Harry was given a dolly, a smock and thick rubber gloves and asked to take all the mattresses outside to a shed, spray them with disinfectant and stain remover, and return them to the bunk bed frames after they had dried. He felt queasy seeing and smelling the nasty condition of the mattresses. Harry didn't so much mind moving the mattresses the muggle way. The exercise felt pretty good. But the stain remover did little on such old and repetitively applied stains and Harry didn't think there was enough disinfectant in the world to make him comfortable with the idea of lying on those mattresses. He felt bad about leaving the mattresses for the clients in a condition he himself would not have wanted to use them. It was also very time-consuming to spray them and let them dry.

To move things along, Harry found Cameron, who had been pressed into bathroom clean-up in the absence of need for his counseling, and who didn't much mind being interrupted from this duty for a good cause. Cameron stood guard at the shed door while Harry cleaned the mattresses magically. The only indication that they were not brand new was the fraying at the edges.

Cameron looked in on the first batch. "Uh-uh, Harry," he said, "too good. It's suspicious. Put some pale brown and green splotches on them."

Harry did so, and together they took the first group upstairs and loaded the dolly with more nasty mattresses. With the aid of both Cameron and magic, the job was done in a couple of hours, when it had been expected to be a ten-hour job. Harry felt good that the mattresses were decent enough to lie on.

Next Harry was asked if he had any maintenance skills and he told briefly of the many types of chores he had done around the Dursley home. He was given a long list of maintenance and repairs needed for the grounds and the buildings and asked to tackle the ones he could handle and had time for. It would have been short work by magic, but very few of the chores were sufficiently out of sight that he could do them that way. That was okay with Harry because it felt good to tackle the jobs the muggle way. He had the skills for nearly all of them, except plumbing and electric. These jobs took him the next four days, but he was able to take a much-appreciated break for the Sunday worship service at the Mission.

Cameron led the service, as it was the regular chaplain's time for a vacation as well. They sang hymns and said prayers. Cameron asked Harry to read the verses which were to be discussed in the sermon: the parable of the Prodigal Son from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 15. Cameron explained about God's forgiveness and compassion and that this is the grace of God - that anyone can be reconciled with God if he or she will only let go of the burdens which hold him or her back. Harry could see how this was a particularly appropriate sermon for the clients, but he also felt that there was much wisdom there for him as well.

After the service he asked Cameron about that feeling, and Cameron explained, "We all make mistakes or hold on to problems. This causes separation from God and is called sin. But God loves us and forgives us no matter what we have done. It's a message that everyone needs to understand. So yes, there was much there for you, Harry," then Cameron began pointing around the room, "and for him, and her, and Arabella, and me, and everyone - even Voldemort and his followers."

"I don't think they're listening to that message, Cameron."

"No, I'm sure you're right, but God is love and love is patient, and with God, all things are possible."

A strong cold front was bringing in a major storm that evening. The next morning when Harry awoke he could tell that things seemed different. He looked out the window and everything was blanketed in ice and there was still a light drizzle falling that froze to everything it touched. There was an 'ice palace' type of beauty to everything, shining as it all was in the encasement of ice, reflecting and bending the light. However, Harry could see how the ice weighed down the trees and realized that this was very dangerous weather for any living thing outdoors. He dressed warmly and headed down to breakfast.

"Aah, Harry, there you are!" greeted Cameron. "We wanted to let you sleep as long as possible since you get up so early at school, but they'll be needing us certain in weather like this."

"Sure, of course," yawned Harry. "That's what we're here for. There's time for some breakfast though, isn't there?"

"So long as you like porridge and sausages," said Mrs. Figg, ladling out a large steaming bowl of oatmeal and putting it in front of Harry. "Eat hearty, Harry, you'll be very busy on a day like today, and they'll be counting on you and Cameron to handle the heavy chores and outdoor things."

"Right-o!" said Cameron, "but before we get going, I'll be taking a look around the house to see how the ice is affecting the place. We may need to lighten the load on the trees or gutters before we go."

Harry ate his porridge as quickly as the heat of it would allow, alternating spoonfuls with bites from the plentiful sausages and sips from the tumbler of juice Mrs. Figg insisted Harry needed for the weather. After Harry warmed areas of the house and yard that were vulnerable to the ice, they were off. The radio said the buses weren't running until the roads could be cleared, so they walked. Despite being thoroughly bundled and hunching their shoulders against the weather, Cameron and Mrs. Figg kept their eyes open for signs of someone living on the street. Harry was surprised how they were able to espy the telltale signs of street dwellers, despite efforts to make themselves inconspicuous. Harry almost never saw them. It was like with seeing magical things, more a matter of knowing how to see them.

At the Mission, things were already bustling even though more than half the staff and volunteers had not yet been able to get in. In addition to those regular clients that came in whenever the weather got fierce, the bobbies and relief agencies were sending street people to every available shelter, as the temperature continued to drop and the rain turned to snow. Mrs. Figg went right to work in the kitchen to get plenty of hot food going; she took Harry with her to lift the heavy bags from the floor and retrieve from storage the large boxes that they would need. Cameron went to help with registration and assignments. Harry was amazed at the way the place transformed from the sleepy, almost lonely, facility it had been on the weekend to being as crowded, chaotic, and yet purposeful as a goblin hullabaloo.

Harry was kept scurrying all day and evening long. If he wasn't doing the heavy lifting in the kitchens and dorms, he was collecting and taking out great bins of trash and garbage, or shoveling - scraping was more like it - the walk and drive to keep access, or serving food, or cleaning up afterward. Whenever he found himself alone, he took the opportunity to clean up the area magically, figuring he would be asked to clean it eventually and may have watchful muggle eyes about at such times. While cleaning up after dinner, Mrs. Figg told him that with people still coming in, they would have to stay at least that night, and perhaps the one after that. Harry let on that he was glad he had cleaned the mattresses ('specially' he said with a wink at her to avoid mentioning magic).

"It'll do us no good, Harry," she replied, "'though I'm glad they're clean. They'll all be taken by clients. The reserves are being laid on the floors between the bunks and the clients will have those too. You'll have to kip up where you can. The divans are already claimed. You might be able to lay out some bags of flour or such in the pantry."

"You're kidding!" said Harry, "You know I could provide a bit of comfort if ..."

"None of that, Harry, we'll do things the 'regular' way," she whispered.

"I could apparate back to the house," Harry pled. "I can take you and Cameron with me."

"Too obvious. There's too much activity around the place. There's already talk of how clean the bathrooms are for it being a rush," she said, arching her eyebrow at Harry, who tried to look innocent.

They toughed it out. They stayed at the shelter for the nest three nights, working straight through Christmas Day. Even at the Dursleys he had never been worked so hard on Christmas. Harry didn't mind the work and Cameron's and Mrs. Figg's enthusiasm were infectious: you'd think they were at an amusement park with a 'no wait' pass for the good cheer they had about helping the clients.

The attitude was infectious, that is, until Harry had to deal with the actual clients themselves. A few were alright, or at least civil, but most were rude and surly. They resented being in a building; they resented being subject to schedules; they resented having rules to follow; they resented being expected to get along with their neighbors. They resented just about everything: the food wasn't good enough, the beds weren't comfortable enough, the telly wasn't clear enough; the showers weren't spacious or warm enough. Never a consideration was given to the fact that they never had these things when they weren't at a shelter, only that whatever was there wasn't good enough.

And that went double for Harry and Cameron and Mrs. Figg and all the staff of the Mission. They were subjected to some of the foulest verbal abuse Harry had ever heard. The clients accused them of stealing things. They were touched inappropriately - by both men and women - and laughed at when they pushed wandering hands away. If Harry had not had the example of Cameron and Mrs. Figg dealing with all this so serenely, he felt he surely would have pulled his wands and hexed the lot of them. There wasn't a chance to talk about it all, but just seeing that they were dealing with it so well brought Harry around time and again when he would have liked to have responded badly. Even when they were finally able to get back and forth to the house for sleep they were too tired to even talk about anything.

On the bus on the Friday morning after Christmas, Cameron seemed a bit anxious. He hemmed a bit before saying to Harry, "Harry, there's an open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous tonight at the Mission. 'Open' means anyone can come. Arabella and I are going, and I think you should, too."

Harry looked puzzled. "I've barely had anything to drink in my life - a few butterbeers, a taste of whiskey, a bit of firewhiskey, that's all."

"Nae, Harry, I'm not saying you have a problem. I just think it would be an eye-opener for you to hear what some people had sunk to and recovered from. Some of what you hear at the meetings can be quite shocking and at the same time inspirational. It's a side of people you should be aware of."

Some people had shown up near the end of dinner and started setting up for the meeting in the lecture room/chapel. Harry was asked to move the largest coffee urn from the kitchen to the back of the room and to bring in the several gallons of water needed for it. Harry was a bit nervous about going to the meeting, but also curious. He had at various times heard of AA, but just had a notion of a room full of drunks - very much like the Mission's clients - but the people who set up looked very normal and quite successful, people the Dursleys would have brought out their best china for. And yet, not quite normal - they radiated cheer and hope, just as Cameron did. Harry had to clean the pots behind the kitchen before he could go, so he surreptitiously used magic to make the back door stick and cover the windows with dust so he could clean the pots magically and get to the meeting.

Harry looked at the posters and brochures and books. When Cameron arrived, Harry waited until he was done greeting the people there. He seemed to know most of them, but then that was not a surprise since he was a regular volunteer at the Mission.

"Cameron, these materials here are pretty strange."

Cameron smiled. "How so, Harry?"

"Well, the advice on how to act better and look inside yourself makes a lot of sense. I've seen some of those ideas in magazines and other places."

"Aye, AA doesn't claim to have been the first with any of these ideas, but the success it has had has helped spread the ideas through society."

"Yeah, I can imagine. But the thing that gets me is that so many of the writings sound, well, desperate."

Cameron nodded. "O' course, Harry. Do you think people who love drinking come in here before they are desperate? The last thing they really want to do is give up liquor. They have to be crushed by their obsession until they have only one choice - reform themselves or die. It's that 'back against the wall' sense that infuses everything done here - it's a matter of life and death. Unfortunately very few people will really examine themselves deeply until they feel desperate. I've used this program to guide our work together."

"But ... I'm not an alcoholic!" Harry said somewhat loudly.

A visitor nearby overheard and nodded at Harry, saying in mild remonstrance, "Denial is the surest sign. You're in the right place."

Cameron laughed at the defensive posture Harry took. He waved to the man and explained, "Jim, he really isn't. He's just a guest of mine here."

"If you say so, Cameron," replied Jim. "I still say there're two types of people - those who have the Program and those who need it."

"I know, Jim," said Cameron understandingly. "That's one of the reasons Harry is here - I've been helping him with a program."

"Lucky lad, then, to get on a program before hitting bottom. Stick with Cameron, son, he knows of what he speaks."

Jim went up to get the meeting started as Cameron steered Harry first to get a styrofoam cup of coffee - so strong Harry nearly choked on it - and then to sit in a couple of chairs Mrs. Figg had saved for them.

"There's a kind of missionary zeal to those who have turned their lives around, Harry."

"No kidding," said Harry in mild sarcasm.

"Those who have made it in the program were those who realized that they were staring death in the face, and were willing to give up everything in their lives they had foolishly clung to in order to embrace life. You came to me in much the same attitude."

"Not without reason."

"Aye, but so many people would have turned away from what was staring at them. You accepted the facts and you have proved willing to do whatever it takes to find that strength within you."

"You say that, and yet I don't feel any more up to the job than when we started."

"The Headmaster has assured me that it will help you put all the pieces together - if you get the chance."

Just then the meeting got started. There were some prayers and recitations at first, which reminded Harry of the church service he went to with the McMillans. But after the opening rituals, people were invited to speak about their problems with alcohol and their efforts toward recovery. Harry wasn't sure if it was more harrowing listening to the appalling things people had done on alcohol or drugs and the repulsive states they found themselves in as a result, or listening to the tales of efforts made to turn themselves around. He had trouble believing people could survive many of the things he was hearing, and yet, except for the new people, most of whom were clients of the Mission, most of the people were cheerful, laughing, warm, and serene.

Near the end, Jim asked for anniversaries. Harry watched as in turn several people arose - the very newest got a white poker chip to signify a new beginning, a commitment to try to live without alcohol. Others got chips for a month without drink or drugs, or three months, or other periods. All were greeted with cheers and applause for every milestone reached. Then Cameron rose up and came to the front.

Jim handed him a blue chip and they gave each other a bear hug.

Jim looked Cameron in the eye. "I was wondering how long ye were going to lie doggo on us."

"Speech, speech," went up the call. Cameron turned and faced the meeting.

"It's good to be back. Where I work, it's not always easy to get to meetings. This," he held up the chip, "represents 27 years without a drink or a drug."

A thunderous ovation ensued. Harry stared open-mouthed.

Cameron briefly described his problems with alcohol like it was a form of possession. Then he concluded, "By the grace of God, I hit bottom while still in my 20s. There have been some trying times - worst of all, the deaths of people I loved - but I've had some good people around me, and of course God will never abandon me, and I'm here to say: it can be done!"

Again there was thunderous applause. At least half of those at the meeting insisted on shaking Cameron's hand or hugging him as he made it back to his seat. Mrs. Figg stood as he approached and threw her arms around his chest, and laid her tear-streaked face against his chest.

"Ah, Cameron, I'm so proud of you! I'll never tire of coming to your anniversaries."

Harry was still staring silently, in shock. Cameron winked at him.

"Just something I thought you ought to know."

Finally the weather warmed a bit, the ice melted and the streets dried. Although the clients were encouraged to stay, few did: they resented rules and walls and had already tolerated such more than they cared to. It was still not until the day after New Years' Day that the three of them were able to have a relaxed dinner at the house. Harry was so wound up with frustration at the way the clients had treated them that he said nothing all the way back from the shelter and during preparation for dinner. When his help wasn't needed, he sat in the parlor staring into the fire and tossing a couple months of junk mail into the fire piece by piece, watching it curl and burn.

At dinner, Cameron passed around glasses of red wine - taking grape juice for himself - and then raised his glass for a toast, "Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to serve our fellow man."

"Hear, hear," said Mrs. Figg.

Harry set his glass down without a sip and glared.

Cameron smiled both knowingly and mischievously. "Something wrong, Harry?"

"How can you say that!? Those were the rudest bunch of people I have ever seen. They were foul, abusive, crude, unappreciative, disgusting, and vile."

"Harry, did you expect people who live in the alleys to be sweet and well-spoken?"

"They could at least be civil. They could at least cooperate a bit! They could at least keep their hands to themselves!!"

"Actually they can't," said Mrs. Figg. "They are very, very sick, by and large. They aren't really in control of themselves. Harry, there are a few people who live on the streets who are reasonable, decent human beings who just don't want to live normal lives. But that's a very small portion. And it's not that the rest of these people are simply unable or unwilling to work. If that were there only problem, they could go on assistance, have a government apartment and at least be comfortable. The vast majority live on the streets because they are addicts or otherwise insane. Some hear voices and even talk back to the voices. Many of those who were there kept sneaking out even during the freezing rain to get their drugs or alcohol. We turned a blind eye on that, because as bad as those things make them, they are much more cooperative if they aren't in withdrawal."

"Harry," added Cameron, "if it weren't a life or death threat, most of them would not even come. And even with the foul weather, many had to be run into the shelters by the bobbies just to keep them alive."

"If they don't want the help, why do you keep doing it?"

Cameron smiled. "Because they need the help. They may not see their need, they may not appreciate the effort, but still their lives are precious, every one of them, and so long as there is life, there is hope. Hope that they will stay alive for a bit longer and start to realize that they can get help and do better. Many of the volunteers you met used to be clients. So was I. We sobered up, or got psychiatric help or got off drugs or alcohol, whatever was hindering us. And now we have productive lives and decent apartments and give time to help those who are like we were."

"Can't you make them get off the drugs or get help?"

"People keep trying different ways of making people stay sober or keep on their needed medications. Unfortunately, experience has shown that rarely lasts. Success is rare unless the clients are motivated."

"Yes," said Mrs. Figg, "so you try to keep them alive and show them that their lives can get better. Many are lost, but quite a number come around. And even for those who never straighten their lives out, we ease their burden and make their poor existence a little better, and that much is good too."

"So even though people don't see their need and don't appreciate what you're doing, you keep at it."

"Exactly."

"You taught me that when we do things for the least among us, we do it for God."

"He is in all of us, and loves all of us."

They waited as Harry thought. Finally he nodded his understanding. He picked up his glass of wine and said, "It helps to now have a human face to it. Thank you, God, for the opportunity to serve our fellow man."

Cameron and Mrs. Figg raised their glasses with him.